


and this is thee

by salvage



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Missing Scene, Movie Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:44:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5049094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvage/pseuds/salvage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s really over?” Benji affirmed, a tremor in his voice, as though disbelieving. </p>
<p>“It’s over.” Will took Benji’s hand, held it in both of his. Benji’s hands were shaking. </p>
<p>“I might pass out soon,” Benji said conversationally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and this is thee

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, here's some embarrassing married people fic that I wrote in September. In the same universe as/spiritually preceded by [this missing scene ficlet](http://salvage-writing.tumblr.com/post/128277134986/mission-impossible-rogue-nation-william). 
> 
> Thanks to [Suzelle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzelle/pseuds/Suzelle), as always.

At the sound of echoing footsteps Will and Luther both looked up, reaching for their guns; before Will could get a hand on his, Benji turned the corner into the parking garage, out of breath, still clutching the bomb that had been strapped to his chest. The relief Will felt at seeing him alive and in person flooded through him, stealing his breath, numbing his hands and feet for the space of a heartbeat. His hands dropped to his sides.

“Benji,” he heard himself say. 

“What are we doing?” Benji asked as he approached, still breathing hard, setting the bomb on their work table. 

“Building a trap,” Luther said, then tactfully turned away as Benji came within Will’s reach and Will fell into him, clutching at the layers of fabric he wore, pressing his face into Benji’s neck. Benji gripped Will just as tightly, letting out a single ragged breath against his ear. Benji was solid and smelled of sweat, sharp and sour. Benji was alive. 

“A trap,” Benji said, weakly, drawing away from Will slightly but still clutching at Will’s shirt, pulling the fabric tight across Will’s back. 

“Yeah.” Will’s voice wasn’t as steady as he had hoped. He failed to drag his gaze away from Benji’s pale face, the spots of color on his cheeks, his bright eyes. Will cleared his throat and with great effort forced himself to step away from Benji. The mission. 

They completed the glass box, running a line of hose to the tank of gas Luther had procured from some contact of his, just in time for Ethan’s plan to come together, as it always did. It never ceased to amaze him. They trapped Lane; Will wanted him to suffocate right there, wanted to put a bullet between his eyes, wanted to tear him apart with iron nails and sharp-edged shrapnel. His hands tightened into fists. Lane slumped to the floor. Will splayed his fingers at his sides, releasing the tension, and went to Benji. 

Ilsa and Ethan were having some sort of Moment, Will distantly observed, following Benji into the back seat of the van; Luther was looking aggressively innocuous in the driver’s seat. Benji looked at Will. 

“It’s really over?” Benji affirmed, a tremor in his voice, as though disbelieving. 

“It’s over.” Will took Benji’s hand, held it in both of his. Benji’s hands were shaking. 

“I might pass out soon,” Benji said conversationally. 

“That’s fine.” Will was hesitant to reach out for Benji the way he wanted to, aware that there was a huge number of ways Benji could be reacting to the trauma he had experienced, but Benji leaned into Will, pressing his cheek to Will’s chest, clutching at him until Will disengaged one hand to wrap an arm around his shoulders, trying to still the tremors that shook Benji’s body. 

Ethan hauled himself into the van and slammed the door, making Benji twitch involuntarily. Unable to glare at Ethan, Will just stroked his hand soothingly up and down Benji’s arm, counting down the minutes until they got to the London safehouse. The van rumbled and swayed through the streets, shuddering over the cobblestones of narrow side streets, rocking from side to side as Luther rounded corner after sharp corner. Benji’s trembling subsided, then returned; his breaths were shallow but mostly even. The van slowed and turned down a somewhat hidden driveway.

“I’m gonna,” Will said to Ethan and Luther as they pulled behind the innocuous-looking townhouse and shuddered to a stop. He jerked his head toward the house. 

Ethan waved a hand. “Go.” 

“Come on,” Will coaxed softly, steering Benji out of the van and into the house with an arm around his shoulders, pausing with one foot inside the door to disable the primary and secondary alarms and then arming them again as soon as he and Benji were inside. He glanced around the small first floor, the open kitchen and living room area, keeping Benji well within reach as he stepped over to the half-open door of the bathroom, opening the door with his shoulder, both hands on his gun. “We’re goin’ upstairs, okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m going,” Benji breathed. His foot caught on the first step but he took the rest without trouble. He trailed one hand on the banister as they ascended, fingers loose, first two knuckles bloodied. Will recognized the look of knuckles split on someone’s teeth. 

“You did good, Benji,” he said as they reached the landing and he reluctantly left Benji standing with his back to the wall as Will checked both rooms on this floor, gun still drawn. Once he was reassured it was safe, he guided Benji into a bedroom and closed the door behind them, turning on a small lamp so that the bed was illuminated by a circle of orange light. 

“Oh my god, we finally get to sleep,” Benji said, dragging a hand over his face. “I don’t even remember the last time we slept.” 

“Too long,” Will agreed. He and Benji shed their shoes and jackets, Will tossing his jacket over the back of a chair by habit, Benji’s sliding to the floor in a heap. “Come on.”

Benji lay on top of the sheets, shifting his shoulders for a moment and then reaching for Will with one extended hand, curling his fingers in a “gimme” motion when Will didn’t unbuckle his shoulder holster quickly enough. Will checked the safety on his gun, the magazine, the chambered round; he’d clean it tomorrow. He placed it on the nightstand. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” Will murmured. He slotted their legs together, lying partially next to Benji, partially on top of him. He wrapped an arm around Benji’s chest. “Is this okay?” he asked. His forehead was pressed to the side of Benji’s face.

“This is fine.” Benji slid one hand up Will’s back, underneath his shirt, fingers cool. “This is good.” He let out a long breath. “I didn’t die. That’s good.” 

Will couldn’t stop his arm from tightening around Benji. “That’s very good,” he said, hearing the strain in his own voice, feeling something hysterical rise in his chest and trying to tamp it down. 

“I’m sorry,” Benji said after a moment. He rolled his head toward Will just a little, though they still couldn’t quite look at each other. “If I were a better field agent, maybe they wouldn’t have been—”

“No,” Will said firmly, raising himself on one elbow. “None of that. Whichever of us they had chosen to take, we would have got taken, okay?” He wasn’t sure it was true, but if they both needed it to be true, Will could make himself believe it.

“Except Ethan,” Benji said with a little smile. 

Will grimaced. “Except Ethan.” 

“Okay,” Benji said. His blue eyes searched Will’s face. “Are we going to kiss or what?” 

Will laughed in spite of himself, pressing their lips together with more force than finesse. He remembered looking to where Benji had been standing in the ever-moving press of people, formerly conspicuous in his bright red jacket, now gone, and the panic that rose in his throat. He remembered Ethan’s voice saying “bomb.” He opened his mouth to the kiss and a sound escaped his helpless lips. Benji touched the side of Will’s face. 

“Okay, it’s okay,” Benji murmured against Will’s mouth, and for a moment Will couldn’t figure out why, didn’t know why his eyelashes felt wet. 

“This seems backward,” Will said after a fruitless moment of denial. 

“I think I’m too exhausted to have another emotion today,” Benji said. He brushed his knuckles lightly under Will’s eyes, first one, then the other. “I’m sure I’ll have a breakdown later.”

Will laughed weakly. “Okay.” He kissed Benji again. Benji’s beard felt soft and familiar; his mouth was so warm. Will kissed him again. “Look, just.” His throat spasmed. “Just don’t get kidnapped again, okay?” 

“Never again,” Benji said. “I promise.” 

“Good.” Will kissed him again, his mouth and his cheek and his nose and his forehead and his temple and his throat, until Benji’s breathing slowed and evened. A noise from downstairs spiked Will’s adrenaline, making him still and silent before he recognized Ethan’s footsteps and Luther’s low laugh. Benji was undisturbed, forehead smooth, lips parted just a little. His skin had regained a little pinkness. 

Will thought of their house: the bread on the counter that would be stale by the time they got back; the one faucet that took forever to get hot; the pile of laundry neither of them had gotten around to folding yet; their towels in the bathroom, hanging side by side. He thought of Benji reprimanding him for wearing his shoes in the house again. He thought of Benji’s arms snaking around his waist as he scrambled eggs in the morning, Benji’s nose pressed to the back of his neck as Benji mumbled “Morning” into his skin, forehead dropping onto Will’s shoulder, still sleep-warm. Tomorrow they would be back, dealing with the probable reconstitution of the IMF, shunted from hearings to panels to debriefings that approach the interrogation event horizon, inevitably, but they would be back in their home, too, where Will could press Benji to the wall of the hallway, the kitchen counter, the couch that Will secretly referred to as “the video game couch,” could open his mouth on Benji’s skin and breathe him in, take him slowly apart. 

Benji sighed in his sleep, chest pushing up against the arm Will had locked around Benji’s body, ribcage expanding and contracting. 

“It’s creepy when you watch people sleep,” Benji slurred without opening his eyes. 

Will breathed out a laugh and tucked his face into Benji’s neck. “I thought we’d already agreed I’m a lurker.” 

Benji hummed his agreement and pressed his cheek to the top of Will’s head. “Love you,” he murmured. 

“Yeah,” Will said. The light was still on, haloing them both in a soft orange glow. He closed his eyes at last. “I love you too.”


End file.
